


Breathe Easy

by terminaltongues



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Alternate Universe - Actors, Angst, Comfort/Angst, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terminaltongues/pseuds/terminaltongues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis lived the past three years of his life trying to make it as an actor in the West End. His years in the theatre haven't treated him kindly and he's on the brink of giving up when his flatmate suggests a trip home. Only, his family thinks he's in a relationship. Luckily, Harry offers to play the role.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe Easy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeeBarnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeBarnes/gifts).



> Here's the original prompt:  
> Louis moved to London when he was twenty and full of hope, convinced he could make a name for itself on the West End. Three years and many failed auditions later, he has a hard time making meet ends every month and tells his mother daily lies to avoid disappointing her. When she asks him to visit, claiming he has to meet his new baby siblings before they turn one, Louis thinks it might do him good to take a couple of weeks away from London and the misery that is his life. The problem is that his mother is convinced he's been in a committed relationship for years and expects him to bring his significant other with him. Luckily for him, his housemate and best friend, Harry, offers to play the part. Louis is reluctant at first because he's been harboring the hugest crush on Harry forever and isn't sure he'll survive a week of pretending to be with him but he knows it's either that or confess to all of his lies. (Whether Harry already has feelings for Louis or not is up to you, I do request a happy ending for those two though. The prompt calls for angst and pining, obviously, but I won't mind if it's mostly fluff either.)
> 
> I don't have much to say only: 
> 
> Thank you to everyone involved in the fic exchange, these things are just so much fun (and stressful), and also thanks to my betas and LeeBarnes for requesting a fic. 
> 
> Aside from that, know I did my best and enjoy! (:

“No, I totally understand,” Louis assures trying to sound as sincere as he can. It’s one of those moments where he wishes he had a landline phone that wasn’t wireless so he could twirl the telephone cord between his fingers. Instead, he’s left to nip at the pathetic excuses he calls fingernails. 

“We could always use an extra hand backstage...” the voice on the other end trails off. The offer is hollow, and something deep inside of Louis shrivels at the sound of it. 

“No,” a pause, “It’s okay.” Louis forces a chuckle, but it comes out more like a wheeze, and he mentally stuffs his whole fist into his mouth. 

“I’ve already got something else lined up anyways,” He tags on a beat too late. There’s an awkward moment of silence before the man on the other end coughs.

“Yeah, that’s great. Cool dude,” the man says.   
Louis cringes, his shoulders pinching in. He wants this conversation to be over. 

“Okay, well I’m gonna let you go,” He says slowly.   
Louis lets out a small breath of relief and sags forward, knees hitting the bedpost. “Yeah, no, I’ll see you later.”

“Right.”

Louis hangs up.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

As far as Sundays go, this is definitely not one of Louis’ best. Only noon, and he’s already lost his job. He was the understudy’s understudy because the casting director didn’t know how to send him off kindly. The only reason he even showed up to rehearsals was because the first understudy came down with the flu. 

The good news is Jonah is up and kicking, ready to act and partake in rehearsals. The bad news is that Louis’ unpaid of and nobody knows his name.

He sighs aloud and chucks his phone across the room. It thuds pathetically against his mattress before bouncing off and landing on the floor. 

He really needed this. Three years have passed since Louis moved to London and since then he’s only been cast in a total of three plays, two as understudies and the third as a mountain goat in which his only lines were ‘baa’ and ‘meh’. 

He had promised himself that if he didn’t get anything by the end of the year he’d stop trying. It’s only the beginning of spring, but all the major productions have already been cast. 

There’s always summer, Louis thinks miserably. Only, not really. He could always search for work in smaller local theatres, but he’s bigger than that. The only other source of income he actively has comes from the local grocery shop where he works nights and sometimes weekends. 

Louis rubs his hands over his face and grimaces at the stubble his fingers brushes over. His life isn’t at all what he hoped it would be at this point. He desperately doesn’t want to be bagging eggs and milk and asking shoppers whether they’d prefer plastic or paper for the rest of his life.

He refuses to believe that this is all that life has to offer for him. He is better than this or at least he could be, if he was just given the chance. All the roles he auditions for get handed over to the more well-known and experienced actors. He could always tell at the beginning of an audition whether he had a chance or not. He hated when he could already see the rejection in the casting director’s eyes even before he opened his mouth. It wasn’t fair. He wanted to scream. 

Louis’ brought out of his thoughts by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He turns around to see Harry leaning against the doorway holding a cup of steaming tea. Louis tries to straighten up and work a smile on his face, bleed sparkle into his eyes, something. The sad look he’s returned suggests that he overheard the phone conversation, and Louis does not appreciate it. 

“You okay?” Harry asks softly, lips downturned and eyebrows creased lightly. His long body is bent slightly, hunched over the cup of tea timidly. He inches into the room slowly; small shuffled steps as if he were approaching a wounded animal. 

“Yeah, course,” Louis chirps cheerfully. It sounds wrong, even to his own ears and Harry’s frown deepens. “Thanks for the tea, mate.” He grins unconvincingly as he gingerly takes the steaming mug from his roommate’s hands and brushes past him heading for the kitchen. He doesn’t need to turn around to know Harry’s on his tail.

He doesn’t know why he’s putting up an act. Harry obviously heard the conversation. Louis’ had enough of these types of phone calls in the past year of them living together that it shouldn’t take much to guess how it went. It’s a bitter thought, how predictable it is that it wasn’t good news. 

They’d been in the middle of a film when his phone went off. It was with a sense of dread that Louis had paused the film and told Harry he’d be just a moment. It was never just a moment, and he could feel Harry’s sad eyes burning into the meat of him as he trudged to his bedroom to receive the call. 

They have a sort of routine going. 

Louis would curl into himself and hide in his bedroom until Harry came wandering in armed with a soft smile and hot tea. He always waited patiently, holding back until Louis opened up to him or wilted into a pile of pliable mush. Harry would then usually drag his body carefully into living room where he would tuck Louis into the couch and envelope him with in arms, whispering soothing words into Louis’ neck while rubbing soft circles on his back as they watched muted television. Eventually Louis would melt into his side completely and ruin his shirt with silent tears until the embarrassment and disappointment were words he could roll of his tongue into tangible sentences. 

This time is different. Louis can feel it. The sliver of hope that usually keeps him going is absent today. There is only despair and an unnamable hollowness that plagues his insides. This is it. There is no more. All the bright and shining glamour of the West End suddenly seems cheap and frayed, flimsy and fake. 

Louis sits down at the kitchen table, grabs a coaster and sets his mug down. He clasps his hands in front of him and watches as Harry sits down in the seat across from him. His eyes are expectant and empathetic. Not to be confused with sympathetic or pitiful, two things Louis hates more than anything else. Let him mope; let him temporarily take on the human form of misery, but never pity him. Harry’s never once looked at him with pity in his eyes, and it’s one of the reasons Louis considers him his closest friend. 

They don’t say anything at first. Harry’s silent but attentive, staring Louis down. He’s not going to make the first move, Louis realizes. He’s patient and calm, simply watching and waiting as Louis sips at his tea. 

Louis’ not sure if he wants to talk about it yet, the choked sound of his goodbye and then the click of the receiver ring distinctly in his head still fresh and loud. He’s certain he doesn’t want to cry about it either. He’s caught in a limbo of not knowing what to do or feel. He opens his mouth determined to let something out. Harry maintains his same facial expression, and Louis doesn’t know what to say. He closes his mouth.

Frowning, he drops his gaze down to his mug. The handle is slightly chipped from when Harry knocked it against the counter, but it’s still his favorite. It was made at a pottery shop and painted by Harry himself. It was his housewarming gift for Louis when they first met and moved in together, because Harry was exactly the kind of person that painted personalized mugs for strangers he’d only met once before. 

It’s painted a dark blue with small yellow dots layered about it and finished off with Louis’ name painted out in red bubble letters down the handle. 

Louis grins slightly at the memory and throws his body forward collapsing on the tabletop. 

“The understudy is healthy. I’m out,” Louis says softly, the sound muffled by his sleeve. 

“Oh Lou,” He hears Harry say and then there’s a hand on head, fingers gently carding through his hair. Harry drags his chair closer and scoots closer to Louis until he’s draped on top of him like a blanket. 

“They don’t know what they’ve given up,” Harry whispers into his neck, and Louis slightly surprised and appreciative when he notes that Harry sounds genuinely, if only slightly, angry. Louis feels angry too, but less so, as the utter and completely crushing feeling of failure is currently swallowing him whole.

Louis chuckles weakly into his arm and Harry nudges him with his nose. 

“I’m serious, they’re a bunch of idiots if they think their play could be even half as good without you in it.” 

Louis thinks that’s pushing it a little, but he appreciates the sentiment nonetheless. He wants nothing more to fall out of his chair and into Harry’s arms so he can soothe him out of his distress, but deep down he knows those days are over. He can’t let Harry coddle him anymore, can’t let himself believe that things are going to change. Things aren’t going to change, they’ve stayed painfully and humiliatingly the same for the past three years of his life. 

Sighing, he shrugs Harry off his back ignores the flash of hurt that flits across the younger boy’s face. He stands and turns to put his hands on Harry’s shoulders facing him head on. Harry’s eyes widen and his mouth gapes a bit as he stares Louis down. 

“Uh Lou?” 

“Listen Harry, this,” Louis drops a hand and motions between them, “Can’t go on anymore.” He’s still got his other hand on Harry’s shoulder, and he squeezes it gently as he speaks. 

Harry’s eyes glaze over for a second before a small crease forms between his eyebrows, and a shaky frown envelopes his entire face. 

“I don’t... Where is this coming from?” Harry asks uncertainly. His eyes flit down to where Louis’ hand is still clutching at the fabric of his white T-shirt, fingers digging lightly into his shoulder. Louis blushes, drops it and takes a step back only for the tailbone to hit the edge of the table. 

The question embarrasses him slightly. It’s one thing to be a failure, but to be asked to admit it out loud is another. 

“You know where this is coming from,” Louis says uncomfortably. He needs to do something with his hands. Harry’s gaze is too intense for his hands to not have something to do. He sticks his thumbs into his jean pockets and scratches at the denim with the others.

“Does this have to do with the phone call?” Harry inquires kindly voice breaking a little bit at the end. 

“Of course this has to do with the phone call!” He snaps before he can stop himself. Harry lets out a small strangled sound like he’s been physically wounded, and Louis tries not to curl into himself. His hands naturally work their way to rest under his armpits, effectively hugging himself.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to yell,” He stutters a second later not meeting Harry’s eyes. 

There’s a moment of silence and then, “There will be other auditions, Lou.”

Louis still evades eye contact as he shakes his head sadly. “No, not this time, Haz.” The weight of the words feels physically heavy, and Louis can feel himself tremble beneath the force of it. 

There’s a hitch in Harry’s breath. “Does this mean you’re moving out?” Harry asks. 

His voice sounds wrong. Louis looks up and is horrified when he sees just how shiny Harry’s eyes have become. Harry’s face has gone worryingly pale and his nose is beginning to turn red as he sniffs. He doesn’t break eye contact, though, stares at Louis through all of it. It makes him feel even worse as he tries to figure out why Harry would ask something like that. 

“No Harry! Why would I move out? I still want to live here-” Louis hesitates as a terrible thought crosses his mind, “Do you want me to move out?” 

He’s terrified of the answer, doesn’t really want to hear it, but is immensely glad when Harry gives a vehement shake of the head. 

“I don’t want to move out,” Louis says just to reassure himself. “I don’t want to.”

Harry gives him a helpless look. “I just, I don’t understand where this is coming from.”

“I’ve been feeling like this for a while. I mean, c’mon Harry, aren’t you tired of having to pick me up after all those botched auditions? I just...” Louis searches for the words. “Enough is enough.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I’m not tired of comforting you. I like comforting you. That’s what friends do.” Harry motions wildly with both hands looking properly exasperated. “I care about you Louis, I-” Harry blushes and shifts on his feet, “I really care about you.” 

Now Louis is confused. “I know you care about me. I care about you too.” Louis can’t help the way his eyebrows furrow and the pitch of his voice heightens at the end of the sentence making it sound more like a question than a statement. 

Harry smiles small and sweet. “Great,” He breathes. “Then what’s the problem?” 

Louis frowns a bit miffed. “What do you mean what’s the problem? The problem is my nonexistent career is over,” He huffs dramatically.   
“Oh,” Harry says perking up, all hints of gloom gone. He hunkers down sheepishly at the glare Louis tries to burn through him.

“Yeah, whatever no big deal,” Louis mutters petulantly. 

Harry’s all smiles now and he simply offers Louis a sweet smile. “Don’t worry about it Lou, there will be plenty more opportunities,” He soothes cheerfully.

“No Harry, you’re not listening,” Louis sighs as he delivers the news twice to the same person within the same period of ten minutes. “There aren’t anymore opportunities out there for me. It’s been three years here and I’ve hardly gotten my feet wet. Maybe it’s just not meant to be for me.” 

Harry lips turn downwards. “I don’t think that’s true.” Harry takes a big step forward and reaches out to pull Louis towards him. He gently pulls Louis’ arms away from where they’re tucked into his sides and wraps them around his own waist. 

“I think you can do anything,” He murmurs, setting his head on top of Louis’.   
Louis doesn’t make a comment this time. He feels drained of all emotion and instead of disagreeing with Harry like he feels his throat itching to do, he buries his head in Harry’s chest and focuses on the steady sound of his heartbeat thudding against his chest. 

 

The thing is, on his own, Louis probably would have never become friends with someone like Harry Styles. Although they get along swimmingly, they don’t frequent the same places. Harry spends his free time baking and attending open mics at the local hole-in-the-wall pub. Louis, on the other hand, likes playing footie at the park with his mates and binge watching recorded episodes of The Great British Bake Off. Their lives probably would’ve never intersected if it weren’t for a certain Liam Payne.

Louis had been living with Liam since he’d moved to London. They were mates from secondary school and shared a passion for football and independence. It wasn’t until a couple years later when Liam met Sophia did things change. 

Liam bumped into her at the shop and immediately fell in all-consuming love, bonding over frozen nuggets and mint chocolate chip ice cream. He moved out and into her flat within the same three months of meeting her, and Louis was left in the dust.

The first ten applicants that Louis met with seemed nice enough, but when Harry came along, he was sold. He came bounding in the flat with his floral headscarf and halfway unbuttoned shirt, all squeezed together into a pair of holy, tight black jeans and jammed into his brown, suede boots. 

As a rule, Louis was immediately smitten. If it wasn’t the incredibly attractive mahogany curls, then it was definitely his megawatt smile. He was charming and sweet and Louis was ten blocks past gone. He even brought him pumpkin bread from the local bakery as if he’d already known the path to Louis’ heart was his stomach. 

Harry moved in a week later and the rest is history.

 

The same night, Louis somehow ends up in Harry’s lap, head tucked under the boy’s chin and his long spindly legs trapping him in a Harry cocoon. They’re watching How To Train Your Dragon and Louis is well on his way to falling asleep, when the phone rings for a second time that night. Neither moves to answer it. 

“You should get that,” Harry says in his syrupy slow voice. 

“I’ve answered enough phone calls for the night, thanks,” Louis grumbles. 

Harry doesn’t say anything back and they let the phone ring until the answering machine gets it. 

It’s his mum. 

“Louis,” She says. Louis shrinks a little. The tone of her voice is disapproving, almost like she knows he’s ignored her call. “It’s your mum calling. I just wanted to check in with you...” She trails off and the distant sound of a wailing child echoes in the background. “The girls really miss you. They keep asking when you’re coming for a visit.” Guilt tugs at Louis’ gut. “The twins should meet their big brother before they turn one. It’s really been too long.” Louis shrinks even further into Harry’s lap when he hears how crestfallen she sounds.

“Well, call me back. Love you.” 

There’s the dreadful clicking sound of the phone being hung up before there’s silence. 

“Maybe you should,” Harry voices thoughtfully after a while. 

“What?” Louis watches the dragons flit across the screen with dull eyes. 

“Visit your family, take a break. It sounds like you need it.” Harry traces his fingers alongside the hem of Louis’s jumper. Louis squirms slightly. 

“I can’t,” Louis rebuffs immediately. 

“Why not? I think it’s a good idea. Everything has been stressing you out, maybe you just need to get back to your roots and see if your outlook changes,” Harry suggests gently. 

“Nothing’s going to change,” Louis mutters petulantly. 

“You won’t know unless you go.”

“I’m not going,” Louis argues. He wishes he could suppress the way his body tenses up and his voice gets tight. 

“Okay. It was just an idea,” Harry soothes in a murmur. 

Louis sighs. “I couldn’t go even if I wanted to.”

“Why is that?” Harry questions. 

Louis blushes furiously and trails his fingers up and down Harry’s forearm, splaying the small arm hairs in different directions. He’s glad he’s facing away from Harry; he doesn’t think he could look him in the eye as he admits, 

“My mum thinks I’m in a relationship.”

Harry is quiet for a moment, but the fingers at his side dig lightly into his skin, an interrogative pressure.

“Are you in a relationship?” Harry asks, his voice rising to a questionable pitch at the end. His voice sounds pinched.

“What? No!” Louis sputters. The idea in itself is kind of absurd. Louis hardly has a social life outside of Harry and a couple other mates. He doesn’t have time for a relationship. Besides, he’s sitting in the lap of the only person he’s been attracted to since Secondary, not that Harry knows that. The thought alone makes him wiggle lightly, and the heat of his blush spirals down his neck and splays across his chest leaving him feeling tight and hot.

“Oh.” Harry sounds oddly relieved. Then, “Why did you lie to your mum?” 

Louis sighs again. It’s becoming a habit. “I don’t know. She also thinks I’ve been doing great on stage, racking up theatre points, all that jazz,” Louis jokes weakly. 

“She doesn’t know?” There’s a hint of disappointment in his voice that Louis greatly resents. 

“What was I supposed to tell her? Sorry, but as it turns out your son is a failure who can’t hold down a job let alone a relationship,” Louis defends poisonously. 

“That’s not what I meant, and you’re not a failure.” Harry pinches at Louis’ side roughly. 

“Well, regardless, I can’t go,” Louis sniffs. 

“Why not?” Harry persists.

Louis twists out of Harry’s grip so he can turn to look him in the eye. Harry’s hands remain at his hips, holding him steady with his legs so he doesn’t spill off the couch. 

“My mum is going to expect me to bring my ‘significant other’ if I go to visit. She’d want to meet them.” 

Harry blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Louis says lamely. 

Then a second later, “I’ll go.”

They both stare at each other for a moment before Harry visibly tenses at the dawning of what he just offered. He doesn’t say anything, just lets the offer sit. 

Louis jerks lightly and pretends that he hasn’t abused the definition of blush. “Harry we’re not dating.” 

Harry grins, but his ears settle into a nice pink color. “I know that, but like, we could, like, pretend,” Harry says. “For your mum,” He adds a beat later. He smiles widely at Louis like the suggestion isn’t completely ludicrous. 

“No. Harry- What. No. You don’t have to do that,” Louis sputters. He squirms his way completely out of Harry’s grip suddenly uncomfortable with the position they’re in. Instead, he settles next to Harry on the couch and turns his body to face him. Harry adjusts and curls his long legs beneath him throwing his arm over the side of the couch.

“I want to,” Harry insists. “Seriously, if it would mean that you get to see your family then it would be more than worth it. Besides, I’ve yet to meet the rest of the Tomlinsons.” 

Louis nods faintly. The idea is ridiculous, yet there’s something about the look in Harry’s eyes that is stopping him from saying no just yet. This could be your chance, a small voice deep inside his head whispers to him. He ignores it.

“Are you sure?” Louis asks uneasily.

Harry nods enthusiastically in return. “Of course. It’s just pretend, yeah? It’ll be great acting practice.” 

Louis smiles through tight lips. 

“Besides, what’ve you got to lose?”

Everything, he thinks. 

Louis calls back the next day and gets things arranged. They’re going leave on Friday and stay until the following Friday. It would be a fairly short trip, but both him and Harry couldn’t afford to be away from work for too long. 

His mum was beyond ecstatic when Louis delivered the news that he was bringing his ‘boyfriend’. 

“All these years and you’ve never even shown me a photograph. I was beginning to think he wasn’t real. I can’t believe I finally get to meet him,” His mum had gushed through the phone. 

Louis had cringed and responded, “I can’t believe it either.”

“What did you say his name was again?”

Louis couldn’t help but let a small smile work it’s way on his lips as he responded, 

“Harry, his name’s Harry.”

 

 

They’re half way to Doncaster when the logistics of it all dawn on Louis. 

“Haz, how are we going to do this?” There’s a touch of panic in his voice, but he can’t help it. How is he going to fool his own mother into believing he’s in a relationship?

Harry’s eyes are set out the window, zoning in on the blur of passing trees and fields. His eyes flicker to Louis before tuning his attention outside again. 

“I dunno,” He ponders. “I guess we’ll just act like we usually do, y’know?” 

“But we don’t act like we’re in a relationship,” Louis argues. 

 

“Hmmm. We’ll I guess we might have to like, be more affectionate?” 

Louis’ hands tighten on the wheel. They’re driving Harry’s car.

“I guess.” Louis nods to himself and feels the weight in his chest lessen marginally. That shouldn’t be too hard, seeing as they spend half their time curled around each other anyways. 

“And we should probably know each other’s favorite color,” Harry muses. He’s still staring out the window. His fingers tap sporadically against the center console.

Part of Louis is slightly cautious as to whether or not Harry is mocking him, but a bigger part of him is glad he’s humoring him at all. Their banter is distracting him from the nervous voices in his mind.

Louis snorts. “I already know that. Yours is blue.”

“Cerulean,” Harry corrects and Louis rolls his eyes.

“And yours is green,” Harry says proudly. 

“Basil, actually,” Louis teases. 

Harry cackles, and Louis’ heart thuds against his ribcage like a reminder. Your eyes, he thinks, that’s my favorite color. 

“Of course, my apologies.” 

Louis only sniffs and sticks his nose in the air, but he can’t keep the smile out of his eyes. He’s so glad Harry is with him. The thought is casual and passes quickly through his mind.

“Now that that’s covered, is there anything else we should know?” Louis asks. 

Harry’s fingers stop tapping and his hand comes down flat on the console. 

“Uhm, we’ll probably have to like, y’know, kiss,” Harry brings up nonchalantly. 

Louis’ shoulders tense and he sputters a short, “What?”

Glancing over, he’s gratified to see that Harry looks reasonably embarrassed. 

“I mean, I dunno. We don’t have to. It’s just, most couples tend to kiss,” Harry explains choppily. His fingers begin drumming against the console at an increased tempo. 

“Yeah,” Louis coughs awkwardly, “I guess that makes sense.”

“Mmhmm.” 

A silence takes hold, and they don’t say anything after that.

 

They get to the house mid-afternoon. The sky has turned a milky blue, a distant yellow beginning to leak into it with small curdling lumps of clouds dotting its large expanse. Louis is more than nervous as he pulls into the familiar driveway of his childhood home. He spent the last ten minutes of the drive with his foot hardly skimming the gas pedal. 

Harry is quiet beside him, and it isn’t hard to tell that he’s not the only nervous one. Harry’s hands have continued to compose erratic drum beats against the center console for the duration of the ride and now when he picks up his fingers small prints of sweat are left in their wake. 

“Ready?” Louis asks, voice a little hoarse from lack of use. 

Harry turns and opens his mouth to respond, but the creaking sound of the door opening and then a loud “Louis!” interrupts him.

Both of their heads snap to see two small girls come bounding down the steps of the house, both equipped with bouncing blonde pigtails. Louis offers Harry a short flash of a smile and brushes his hand over his arm before he exits the car and meets the girls halfway for a massive hug. 

“Daisy! Phoebe!” Louis grins widely and sweeps the twins up into his arms shaking them about making them squeal in delight. Their pigtails whip him in the face, and their fingers clutch at the fabric of his jumper. 

“Louis’ here!” A voice calls from the top of the steps. Louis sets the girls down to see Fizzy standing in the doorway calling into the brightly lit home. A moment later, his mum, Lottie and Dan, joins her. 

For a moment, Louis loses his breath. They look so different. Lottie and Fizzy must have collectively grown a foot. Their faces have lost some of their baby fat and have taken on the shape of young women. 

He can’t believe it’s really been so long since he’s visited. His mum looks aged, but beautiful. Dan’s got an arm wrapped around her waist, and Louis has never been so glad to see his face. 

Louis tightens his grip on the two girls and chokes out a short, “Hi.” He’s only slightly embarrassed to realize he’s tearing up a little. It doesn’t matter though, because a second later, the rest of the family is rushing forward to engulf him in a group hug. 

“Sorry it’s been so long,” Louis apologizes against the choruses of “We missed you!” and “Hush up, you’re here now.” 

Louis smiles so hard he fears he cheeks might split. Harry was right: he definitely needs this. Harry. Louis’s eyes snap open, and he locates Harry who’s still currently sitting in the passenger seat viewing the teary reunion with a pale face and wide eyes. 

They make eye contact from over his mum’s shoulder, and Louis offers him a reassuring nod. Harry jerks his head side to side. Still grinning, Louis gently disassembles himself from the tangle of limbs and makes his way to the passenger door. 

Louis can feel eyes on him as he slowly opens the door and leans in to Harry. 

“Come on, time to meet the family,” Louis whispers quietly. He undoes Harry’s seatbelt, and a sweaty hand shoots out and clutches onto his fingers. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” Harry wheezes back, breath fanning against Louis cheek. 

Louis doesn’t even falter. “Of course you can, they’re going to love you,” Louis says honestly as he gently laces his hands with Harry and pulls him out of the car. Their eyes meet again and there’s a short look of panic in his eyes before Harry’s abruptly pulled out of Louis’ grip and into the arms of his mum.

“You must be Harry,” Jay greets cheerfully. 

Harry remains as stiff as a board as he encircles his arms around her cautiously and politely responds, “Yeah. Nice to meet you.” She leans in and whispers something quietly into his ear and Harry’s whole body visibly relaxes. When they pull back he’s got a small, but less nervous smile adorned on his lips.

Louis steps forward and can’t help but slip his hand back into Harry’s. Harry’s eyes flicker down to their connected hands before looking up. It’s fine, he thinks, it’s okay. Couples hold hands all the time and he’s just doing what any boyfriend would do. 

Harry gives his hand a grateful squeeze and Louis has to bite his lip to keep from smiling too wide.

The girls then jump in and introduce themselves, and Harry nods along and smiles like Louis hasn’t already shown him hundreds of pictures of them on his phone. 

Finally, Dan steps up and gives Harry’s hand a great shake before also pulling him into a hug, patting his back with a solid clap in the way that adult male figures tend to do. Harry seems more prepared this time and he returns it solidly and pulls back looking flushed but more confident. 

“Why don’t we go inside,” Jay suggests as the rest of the girls are already heading back into the house now that the excitement is over. 

“I’ll get our bags,” Louis says, turning to head back to the car. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it. You should go meet your new siblings,” Dan assure with a wave of the hand. 

Louis stops. He had forgotten about that. Without a moment’s wait, he drops Harry’s hand and races up the steps and into the house to meet his new siblings. He’s quick to shuffle his trainers off and pads into the living room where he’s met with sight of Doris and Ernest sitting on the carpet playing with an assortment of toys that are scattered about the floor. 

He doesn’t hesitate to delicately pick both of them up and swallow them with his arms. They’re heavier than he anticipated but still tiny as can be. They let out startled noises at being so abruptly lifted into the air, but settle quickly in Louis’ arms like they’re used to being held. Louis rocks them gently and looks up to see Harry standing next to his mum at the entrance of the room. 

“The real challenge is to see if you can tell them apart,” Jay teased, stepping forward to take one of the babies from his arms. Louis looks down at the baby he’s holding. They’re both dressed in blue unisex onsies with small cows on them, but there’s something more delicate in the features of this one. The baby giggles as Louis makes a face and reaches out a chubby hand to smack at his chin.

Louis looks into the baby’s eyes and knows, “This one is Doris.” 

Jay hums in affirmation and holds out the other baby for Louis to hold. Louis swaps with her and cradles the other his arms. “And you must be Ernest.”

“They’re so tiny,” Harry marvels delightedly. 

“They get bigger every day, I swear I can see them growing before my eyes,” Jay comments. Another bout of guilt sweeps over Louis. He’s missed the first eight months of their lives. It’s lost time he’ll never make up all because he was stuck in London whining about what a star he should be.

“Do you want to hold her?” His mum offers, holding Doris out to Harry.

“Oh, uhm, sure, I mean, yeah. That would be nice,” Harry gets out flustered and seemingly unprepared as he takes the baby into his arms. Louis rolls his eyes fondly. Harry babysits the toddler next door at least twice a week. 

“You act like you’ve never seen a baby before,” Louis teases. 

Harry merely sticks his tongue out in response and coos when Doris slobbers on Harry’s index finger. 

Jay chuckles at the two. “I’m going to go finish sorting out dinner. It should be ready shortly.”

The two boys nod as she exits the room and huddle close together. 

“Not so bad after all,” Louis murmurs. 

Harry smiles crookedly. He looks more at home and it’s like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. He doesn’t know why he was worried. This is easy; this is home. 

“No, I guess not.” 

 

Dinner starts off okay. They’re all settled around the dining room table except for the youngest set of twins that whom are set up in highchairs. Comments about how delicious the pasta is and freshly baked rolls are fly across the table. Louis stuffs his face, the taste of home cooking sweet with memories on his tongue. 

It’s only when the conversation picks up and questions begin do things take a turn for the worse. 

“How’s life in the city?” Jay asks just as Louis shoves a big forkful of pasta into his mouth. 

Louis chews through the load in his mouth before answering, “It’s good.” 

“It’s good,” Lottie mocks from across the table doing a horrible imitation of Louis’ voice. 

Louis glares at her and responds defensively, “It is.” 

“That’s all?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not overly exciting.” Louis shrugs. Without meaning to his hand slips beneath the table and he begins to pick at the fabric of his trousers. 

“How’s the acting going?” Dan cuts in shooting Lottie a warning look. Lottie rolls her eyes and turns her gaze down to her food. 

Louis tries not to visibly tense at the question. He doesn’t want to lie to them. It’s been so much easier the past couple months to lie to his mum over the phone. Now sitting here in person, he can begin to feel heart pound heavily in his chest, banging against his bones like a reminder.

“It’s ... All right. Tiring,” Louis says. It’s the closest thing to honest he can come. 

“Mum says we can skip school to go and see your next performance,” Phoebe juts in excitedly. 

“I said maybe we might go see a weekend showing,” Jay corrects and then adds, “But actually, we have been talking about coming down for a show. Are there any big productions coming up?” 

Louis digs his fingers into his thigh and tries not to sweat through his jumper. “Yeah, I mean no, I mean... it’s complicated,” Louis stumbles out. “Like, uhm, I’ve got some auditions lined up, but nothing big yet.” 

“That’s great,” Jay says shooting Louis a proud and sincere smile. It stabs right through Louis’s skin and straight to his heart. I don’t deserve that, he thinks. I’m lying, I’m sorry, I’m trying, he desperately wants to tell them. Instead he nods bashfully and shoves another forkful of pasta into his mouth. 

“Didn’t you say you were in Peter Pan?” Fizzy questions. She doesn’t let him answer before she adds, “I was looking on the Facebook page of the theatre and I couldn’t find you in hardly any of the pictures.” 

Louis had been an understudy for one of the lost boys for that production. He’d spent most of rehearsals back stage. He’s surprised that there are any pictures of him at all. 

“The photographer must have kept them for himself,” Louis jokes weakly. 

The table chuckles lightly and nobody presses for an alternative answer. There are fewer questions after that as Ernest begins to get restless in his chair. Louis sags a little in his own chair and rethinks his decision to visit home. It was great to see everyone again, but he hates lying to them about his life. Maybe he should have stayed in London and tried harder to work things out. 

Almost as if he can hear Louis’ thoughts, Harry glances over at Louis worriedly. Louis offers him a feeble smile in return. A moment later, Louis feels Harry’s hand beneath the table grappling for his own. He tenderly peels his fingers off the fabric of his trousers and links them together. Louis lets out a quiet breath of relief and gives Harry’s hand a grateful squeeze. 

He then notices that Daisy has been watching him from across the table the entire time. She’s got her deep blue eyes zeroed in on him and her mouth set in a solid line. 

“Louis-” she begins, but Louis quickly cuts her off, “Enough talk about me. How have you guys been?”

Daisy frowns pointedly at him, peeved at being cut off, but Phoebe pipes up eagerly, 

“Mum says I can dye my hair red like you did!” 

“I most definitely did not,” Jay hums as she wipes Doris’ mouth with her bib. 

Phoebe shrugs unaffected. “It’s a work in progress,” She says at the same time Harry turns to Louis and asks, “You dyed your hair red?”

“Oh my god, yeah. He looked like someone poured a can of tomato sauce all over his head,” Fizzy snickers. 

“I liked it,” Lottie comments. 

Louis nods in her direction smiling. “Thank you, someone appreciated my creativity.”

“I liked it too!” Daisy speaks up, voice loud. 

“Well I think he looked like burnt toast,” Fizzy states. 

Louis merely sticks his tongue at her. 

“Children, please,” Dan scolds teasingly. 

“We’ll have to show you pictures later,” Jay chimes in. 

“Yeah, we’ve got lots of great photos of Louis to show you,” Fizzy adds wiggling her eyebrows at Harry. 

“Okay, enough teasing Louis for now. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself Harry? Louis’ been so adamant about keeping you to himself,” Jay says pointedly as she settles back into her seat now that the twins are settled. 

“Oh well uh.” Harry’s eyes have gone wide, and his grip on Louis’ hand has inadvertently tightened. “I’m twenty-one and I’m a part time yoga instructor as well as a baker. I also babysit weekly for one of my friends, but it’s less of a job and more of an excuse to get a four year-old to play with my hair. I really enjoy this coffee shop near my-” Jay cuts him off. 

“Whoa there, honey, breathe. This is a dinner table, not an interrogation room.” Jay gives Harry an amused but comforting smile. 

Harry’s face turns a beet red and he lets out a loud breath. 

“Right.” 

Louis laughs before he can help himself; he’s never seen Harry quite like this. He’s one of the most easygoing people he knows. He’s sweet and caring, but serious and attentive when the situation calls for it. He also tells the worst jokes, particularly knock-knock jokes, but Louis laughs at them anyways. It’s hard not to, when Harry prematurely begins to smile and giggle before he delivers the punch line. 

Harry turns to Louis with an embarrassed and glaring look. He gives Louis’ hand a rough squeeze under the table, and it only makes Louis laugh again. They continue staring at each other, conversing through their eyes as Louis tries to assure Harry he’s doing okay. 

“How did you two meet?” Felicite asks, breaking up their nonverbal conversation.

Louis rips his eyes away from Harry’s and clears his throat, “It was actually just after Liam moved out...” Louis begins, genuine smile on his face as he recounts his first encounter with the boy sitting next to him. 

Funny thing, although their ‘relationship’ isn’t real, it’s the only thing Louis feels like he doesn’t have to lie about.

 

Later when their stomachs are filled to brim and they’ve sipped their way through evening biscuits and tea, the Tomlinsons begin to head to bed. Jay stops them just as they’re about to make their way up the stairs. 

“Let me show you the sleeping arrangements,” She ushers past them and leads them to Louis’ old bedroom. 

Harry blinks slowly as she brushes past him, eyes partially glazed over. He doesn’t move an inch. Louis smiles fondly and grabs his hand to tug him up the stairs. He’s mentally and emotionally exhausted after today and it’s clear Harry feels the same. Harry allows himself to be dragged forward. Inertia, Louis thinks. 

Louis’ mum has set up a spare mattress on the floor next to Louis’ bed. She’s patting down the comforter and fluffing up the pillow when they walk in. 

“I’ve made up an extra bed. Let me know if you need anything at anytime, or let Louis know. He’ll take care of you,” her eyes flicker to their clasped hands and she smiles softly, “But you don’t have to use it if you don’t want.” 

Louis feels the urge to sputter at his mother’s implications, but instead just nods tiredly and kisses her on the cheek goodnight. She squeezes his shoulder and then gives a slightly startled Harry a kiss too before fleeing the room. 

Louis drops Harry’s hand as he fully enters the room. It’s been a while since he’s been in his childhood bedroom. It’s still painted an awful puke-green color and adorned in posters of bands he liked in his teens and tacked up with print outs of his favorite playbills. 

Harry makes no move to enter the room. 

 

“This is your room,” he says. 

Louis hums in agreement and pushes up the falling edge of an Oasis poster. 

“Not what you expected?” He asks. 

Harry shakes his head, “No, it’s.... it’s cool. It’s you, but it isn’t. Y’know?” He’s got this look in his eye that Louis can’t identify and it troubles his brain, but he doesn’t dwell on it. It’s too late and he’s too tired. 

“Yeah, well there’s nothing quite like the teen years,” he says dryly. 

“I guess. It’s just weird to think that you were ever different from the Louis I know.” Harry finally files into the room and begins unzipping his duffel bag and taking out his toiletries. After, he sets the bag on the spare mattress. 

Louis frowns. “I’m still that Louis. I just happen to be a little bit scruffier now... and taller.” 

Harry scoffs.

“What?” Louis challenges. 

“That I know is a lie. You probably stopped growing at the age of ten. If you haven’t noticed, you’re tiny.” Harry’s eyes seem to awaken as he speaks and sparkle bleeds into them, soaking up all the light in the room. “In fact, you fit into the palm of my hand. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed that what you call a blanket is actually my sock.” Harry cups his hands to demonstrate Louis’s size to him. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Harry Styles you are such the comedian,” Louis deadpans. 

Harry grins and continues getting ready for bed. Louis notices and frowns.

“What are you doing?”

Harry looks up, “I’m getting ready for bed.” 

“Okay, but you can have my bed,” he insists getting up to transfer Harry’s things.

Harry grabs hold of the duffel and doesn’t let it budge. “No, it’s your bed.”

“But, you’re the guest,” Louis protests. 

“I’m not taking your bed,” Harry says firmly. 

“You’re not taking it... You’re utilizing it.” 

“Your mum would want you to utilize it.”

“My mum would want both of us to utilize it,” Louis mutters still trying to remove the duffel from Harry’s solid grip. 

Harry’s eyes widen. 

“Oh. Should we?” 

“What?” 

Harry’s hold on his bag loosens, but neither of them are making an effort to do anything with it anymore. 

“Should we like... I don’t know. Should both of us sleep in it?” Harry stumbles out. 

Louis blinks, heart racing. “What? No. What?” 

“Like, wouldn’t couples generally share a bed anyhow?” Harry presses onward. 

Louis is so tired of blushing, yet here he is, face hot and red like a mixed up teenager.   
“I guess yeah. I mean, yeah, okay,” Louis responds lamely. What is he doing? What is Harry doing? What are they doing?

“Okay,” Harry says.

They avoid each other to some degree after that. No eye contact is made and not a sound is peeped as Harry scampers off to use the bathroom and brush his teeth and Louis slips downstairs to do the same. 

When Louis returns, Harry is still in the bathroom. He takes a quick but deep breath and settles himself under the covers, scooting to the wall so Harry will have enough room. He takes his phone with him so he can scroll aimlessly through his twitter feed. Harry’s not even back yet, but the energy in the room is still elevated. It’s frightening how rapidly the mood fluctuates.

Louis can tell when Harry enters the room without looking up. The door clicks as he shuts it softly behind him. Louis glances at him and then immediately wishes he hadn’t. Harry’s stripped down to just his pants and although Louis’ seen him completely naked before, there’s just something different about it now. Maybe it has to do with the fact that they’re in his childhood bedroom in which he spent countless lonely nights jacking off or maybe it’s that they’re pretending to be in a fake relationship. Either way, everything in this instance feels amplified and incredibly intimate and Louis wants to shut his mind off forever. 

Harry doesn’t get in bed right away. Instead, he stands at the edge of it peering in apprehensively, teetering from foot to foot, eyeing it like it might bite him. 

“Oh, get in. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before,” Louis mutters. 

Harry slides in silently. Louis shifts over slightly, but his body hits the wall and there’s nowhere else to go. This bed wasn’t made for two. Harry’s body is inches away from his own, but Louis is determined to remain unaffected as he continues to scroll through celebrity tweets and pictures of puppies wearing watermelon rinds as helmets. 

“I’m going to go to sleep,” Harry says quietly. 

“Yeah, cool, me too.” Louis is such an idiot. Why is he speaking? Why are things tense? Things shouldn’t be tense. “Would you mind...” he motions towards the bedside table with his phone and Harry grabs and it sets it away for him. 

Before shutting off the lamp, Harry shifts towards Louis so they’re lying facing towards each other. Harry gives him a small and only marginally painful smile. There’s something of comfort to be found in it and Louis isn’t dumb enough to miss it for what it is, a peace offering, and reassurance.

“Alright?” Harry whispers. His voice has taken on a soothing and velvety quality and Louis thinks, I have never felt as strongly for someone as I do for you. 

He awkwardly reaches behind him and pats Harry on the bicep, letting his fingers linger on the muscle. Harry shifts closer into the touch and Louis can’t quite see his face, but he imagines he’s smiling. 

“Yeah,” he replies, “I’m good.”

Harry clicks off the lamp, and they’re enveloped in darkness.

 

Saturday morning Harry and Louis take the girls out to the park while Dan and Jay stay back for a quiet morning with the twins. It’s a nice spring day. The sky is clear and blue, and the air is touched with cold fingers of wind forming a slight chill. 

Louis is sitting on a cold park bench next to Lottie. They’re watching as Harry leads Fizzy, Daisy, and Phoebe through the basic poses of yoga. They’re currently in downward dog position on the grass and Harry keeps making barking noises in effort to make the girls laugh. Daisy and Phoebe tremble in their poses as they fight through their giggles while Fizz seems intent on maintaining position. 

“Mum really thought you were lying about the whole boyfriend thing,” Lottie comments nonchalantly. 

Louis sputters, attention ripped away from the pleasant sight of Harry bent over shaking his bum at the heavens. 

“What!” he squeaks. 

Lottie rolls her eyes. 

“Relax, it’s obvious you two are completely smitten. It’s just,” She pauses, “You’ve been kind of distant lately. Not been calling as much, didn’t even see you at your last birthday, and other stuff too. You can’t blame her.” 

Guilt churns in Louis’ stomach. He spent his previous birthday out with Harry and a couple other lads getting drunk off their asses. His birthday lands on Christmas Eve every year, and he was feeling particularly homesick. Harry had made him his special eggnog cocktail and the rest of the night is fairly blurry in Louis’ mind.

 

“I know,” Louis sighs. His eyes settle back onto the comfort of Harry’s figure, and he watches as he transitions poses. Harry comes to a stance on two feet and raises a foot to tuck it against his inner thigh. He clasps his hands together and raises them above him slowly instructing the girls to breathe in and out as he does so. 

“But, all things considered,” Lottie muses, “I’m glad he’s real. Harry seems like a really great guy. I’m really happy for you,” She says sincerely, her voice softening towards the end. 

It makes Louis heart swell and his chest constrict. Back when Louis used to live at the house, Lottie and him were the closest. It might have been because of their closeness in age or perhaps it was their personalities, but regardless, Louis is glad to have her in his life. 

He smiles and wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“Thanks, Lots. I’m happy too.” He’s not even surprised when he means it entirely. 

A moment later Harry throws his head back in laughter at something Phoebe said and he tumbles to the grass in a fit of giggles. 

“Really happy.”

 

On Sunday they all head out to see a movie. They decide on Big Hero 6 and are twenty minutes into the movie when Doris starts wailing. Louis immediately jumps up to take her. His mum looks fairly startled when he gets to her before she does but shoots him a smile and in return Louis gives her a thumbs up and exits the theatre, baby in tow.

Back when Louis was growing up and before his mum got married to Dan, it was always his responsibility to take care of his little sisters. He used to take them out on the weekends and make them cheese toasties on Mondays because it’s the most dreadful day of the week. He misses this, being counted on, being needed. 

He clutches Doris tighter to him. 

“There, there Dory, you’re all right,” He soothes. Harry’s taken to calling the twins by Ernie and Dory and he can’t help but do the same. Harry’s also taken to making fish faces at them and likes to quote Finding Nemo whenever the situation deems it appropriate. 

“Is she okay?” 

Louis startles and turns around to see the devil himself. Harry’s eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are slightly pursed in a frown. He looks concerned. Louis is well acquainted with the facial expression. 

“Yeah, she’s a baby. She cries. I’m surprised her crying didn’t set off Ernest,” Louis shrugs. 

Doris has quieted down and her cries are more sniffles than anything. She gnaws at his shoulder, snot and spit dripping into his jumper. Louis pats her back slightly amused. Her new favorite thing, it seems, is seeing how much of the world she can fit in her small gummy mouth. She’s got a couple teeth poking through, but nothing strong enough to do any damage (not that she hasn’t tried). 

Harry nods seriously. “That’s good.” Harry bites his lip and looks unsure. 

Today he’s wearing his favorite burnt orange tunic and his signature pair of black skinnies. He also let Fizzy braid his hair earlier and it’s been pinned back in eight different places to hold in the pigtails she’s attempted. There are bits of hair sticking out, and overall he looks kind of ridiculous, but it just makes Louis’ heart swell, and he’s utterly endeared. 

“You don’t have to stay out here with me. You should go finish the movie,” Louis says halfheartedly. 

Harry grins wide, his pink lips stretching wide over the great winking landscape of his white teeth. 

“What, and miss the complete beslobberment of your shoulder? I don’t think so.” 

Louis hums through his smirk. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to miss this.” 

On cue, Doris chomps aggressively on Louis shoulder and drags her snotty nose across the fabric. She squeals loudly, and Louis grimaces as he wipes at her face with a clean section of his jumper. 

“You want my attention you needy little thing?” Louis teases. Doris babbles in agreement. 

“I can take her if you want to go finish the movie?” Harry offers stepping forward. 

Louis shakes him off. “Nah, it’s okay. I kind of miss this to be quite honest,” Louis admits. 

Harry nods in understanding. “That makes sense.”

Louis nods pleased by Harry’s sincerity. He hesitates before speaking up again.

“When I was growing up, it was kind of my job to take the kids out. When Phoebe and Daisy were younger I always used to take them out to the park or whatever and we’d just kind of hang out. In the summer we’d go and get ice cream at this shop my mate and I used to work at,” Louis recalls fondly. 

Harry smiles sweetly at him. “That’s nice.” 

“Yeah, it was. Like, it was never really a chore, y’know? I didn’t have to do it really. I mean, my mum obviously asked me to babysit here and there, but like, I don’t know...” Louis trails off into a blush. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, and he doesn’t know why he’s telling Harry this. 

He’s known Harry for a long time now and no doubt that he’s Louis’ best mate and he’s fairly certain he’s also in love with him (a minor detail), but back at their flat, his family had never been a big discussion topic. It probably had to do with the way Louis shut down at the bare mention of them. 

It’s just. Things are so different back in London. The pace is quicker, the people are sharper and sometimes it feels like there’s no room to breathe. Family has always been something Louis has held close to his heart, and with all the stress of trying to land a role, the importance of it seemed to triple. It became something he refused to taint with his miserable life and his dreary constant of failures and whining. 

“Louis.” Louis’ attention snaps back to Harry who’s staring soulfully into his eyes. “It’s okay to say what you’re feeling.” 

Louis smiles small and genuine. Small, he thinks, the world makes me feel small. But when he looks into Harry’s eyes and wipes his snot-covered hand on the back of his joggers he thinks: Harry makes me feel like I could be the size of an ant and I’d still be larger than life. 

“I guess the reason I haven’t really told them, err, told my family about the failed auditions and everything is because I don’t want them to think...” Louis blushes, ashamed and turns his gaze away. “I don’t want to think I’m not still the same person I was when I was eighteen and ready to take on the world. I don’t want them to think I can’t take care of them anymore,” Louis mumbles. His face is slightly red at the admission, but he feels lighter now that he’s said it. 

Getting the words out makes him realize that it’s the truth. 

“Louis,” Harry says. He says it with such emotion that Louis’ breath gets caught in his throat and even Doris stills in his arms, slobbering momentarily paused. “They don’t need you to take care of them. They’re happy, and they love you, and they want you to be happy too, and they don’t expect you to be perfect. You’re not some super human, Louis. You’re twenty-three and you’re figuring things out, and that’s okay.” Harry’s got this impassioned glint in his eyes and his mouth is fierce and moving quickly. 

Louis opens his mouth to say something, but Harry doesn’t let him. 

“And they obviously don’t expect you to be like your eighteen year-old self. You’re far better than your eighteen year-old self. You’ve experienced things your eighteen year-old self could only dream about-” This time Louis does cut him off. 

“My eighteen year-old self never dreamed of failing,” Louis mutters bitterly. He remembers the faces of all the casting directors he’s ever met. The downturned crease of their pitying lips like visions playing across the screen of his mind. 

Harry frowns. 

“Maybe, but he probably never dreamt of quitting either.”

Louis cringes. The comment stings more than it was probably meant to, but it still wounds his pride and something else. 

“I’m not a quitter,” Louis replies weakly. He wants to sound indignant and maybe a bit offended, but instead a blanket of weariness settles over him. 

“I know that. I think you forget what you’re worth sometimes and it upsets me.” Harry does look genuinely upset. He’s picking at the skin near his nail on his thumb, peeling it away with his ring finger. Bad habit. “Whenever you get bad news you assume that it means you’re a bad actor or a bad person, I’m not sure.” Harry bites his lip and Louis remains silent. “But, you’re not. You’re a great actor and a great person and a career isn’t built in three years. It’s built over a lifetime. It’s like breathing-” Louis rolls his eyes. 

Harry’s frown breaks for a moment and grins, albeit a bit huffily. “No, listen, it is. It’s like, when I first started doing yoga, my instructor took the entire first couple of sessions to get us all in tune with the way we breathe. Different types of breaths lend to achieving different types of emotional states. She called it conscious breathing. Like, it’s scientific, it makes sense, hear me out,” Harry promises using his hands to explain himself. 

Louis is simultaneously amused and exasperated.

“When you consciously control your breathing your cerebral cortex send signals to your midbrain and then your brain sends the signals on to your hypothalamus, which is like actually connected with the dealings of your feelings.” 

Louis can’t help when a snicker escapes him. ‘The dealings of your feelings’. Honestly. Doris babbles in agreement. 

“So like, when people tell you to take a deep breath, it can actually help. It’s a soothing technique and brings you to a relaxed state,” Harry explains animatedly.

“Harry I don’t see how this relates to me.”

Harry holds up a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m getting there.” He takes a deep breath. “So like, you’re trying to reach this state of peace, of serenity, of equilibrium-” Louis’ eyebrows shoot up. 

“That’s not exactly what I’m trying to do,” Louis mutters, but Harry just waves him off. 

“Whatever, you’re trying to get to this point, right? And it’s like, you keep trying to take all these short quick breaths to get there, so it will like speed up the process y’know? Like if you breathe hard enough and fast enough you’ll get to where you want to go. But it’s not like that.” Harry gives him this look and it’s like Louis can feel the Harry trying to penetrate the very meat of him, like he’s trying to ingrain his words on the inside of his skin and pump them into his veins. 

“I know it seems like a lot, like, I get it.” Louis opens his mouth to protest, but then closes it and lets Harry continue. “But it’s like your breathing has been so laboured that it’s no longer conscious. Your breathing has evolved into a ceaseless fight for breath.” Harry’s hand movements are getting a bit out of control and Louis would reach out to grab his limbs if it weren’t for the baby on his shoulder. 

He feels a bit miffed. “Are you saying I’ve stopped trying?” 

Harry’s eyes widen comically. “No! Louis Tomlinson, you are anything but a quitter.” Then more quietly, “No, I just- I think you just need to be reminded what it means to breathe, y’know?” 

No, Louis wants to say. He doesn’t know. He has no idea what Harry is on about. Or rather, he does, but although completely charmed, he can’t quite wrap his brain around what Harry is telling him. 

“And how exactly would I do that?” Louis challenges, voice drained and eyes tired. 

Harry positively beams. “That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

Louis scowls, even more confused than before. 

“Harry, what are you talking about?”

“You’re doing it, Lou! You’re breathing. You coming home, seeing your family, that was your first breath. Take it one breath at a time.” The pride in Harry’s voice is unmistakable. His eyes are glittering and it seems he’s finally finished delivering his wisdom to Louis. 

Louis gapes at him, trying to comprehend all the words that just spewed out the other boy’s mouth. 

“Harry Styles, what even are you?”

Harry grins even wider. “Your rock, your advisor, your savior, your boyfriend, your-” but then he cuts off and both of their eyes go wide as the word slips out of his lips. Harry blinks owlishly and for a moment they just stare at each other. 

Doris smacks at his chin, demanding his attention, and Louis laughs nervously turning his attention to the baby. He doesn’t know what to do from here. How do they proceed?

As fate will have it, neither of them has to decide, because the theatre door opens and a crowd of people comes spilling out, the herd of Tomlinsons mixed in it. They meet up again and immediately bombarded with reviews of the movie. Daisy tugs at Harry’s hand to get his hand to get his attention and he sends Louis one final dazed glance, before turning his attention to the jittery girl. 

If he were still looking at Louis, he would have seen him open his mouth and take a deep breath before turning to hand his mum the baby in his arms. 

 

They don’t really mention the slip up and they spend the rest of the day walking around the shopping centre, ending the day with ice cream and a short game of scrabble before the girls are sent off to get ready for school the next day. 

They don’t talk about it as they get ready for bed, and they don’t talk about it when they’re lying next to each other in bed, legs pressed together, fingers grazing and eyes closed. Then again, by the next morning any awkwardness has dissipated. 

Louis imagines what Harry would say in his head. “It’s like taking a shaky breath or gasping. You don’t stop breathing because one breath is unsteady, you keep breathing. And when that breath has passed you don’t look back and think of how that single breath altered your breathing pattern. Instead, you keep breathing.” 

So, Louis does. He laughs through a mouthful of porridge when Harry walks into the kitchen, hair done up in a bun fastened with a bright and sparkly pink scrunchie. He spends the day with the twins and Harry while the girls are at school and the weight in his chest melts away slowly until he’s floating. 

He watches Finding Nemo and feels himself his the ceiling when he can feel Harry pressed up next to him, shoulder to shoulder, mouthing the words to all of Dory’s parts. 

He keeps breathing.

 

They spend most of the week like that, hanging out with Ernest and Doris while the girls are at school and then picking them up when they’re released. Sometimes they play board games in the evenings depending on their schoolwork load. 

On Wednesday, Louis’ mum asks Harry to stay back when Louis goes to pick up the girls. She claims she wants to teach harry how to bake her world famous brownies so the family recipe lives on, as (aside from cheese toasties) Louis is useless in the kitchen. 

Harry agrees immediately, seemingly excited at the notion of baking, but also nervous. 

“It’ll be fun,” Louis whispers into Harry’s neck before he takes off. So far, they’ve gotten away with just handholding and hugs. His family seems entirely convinced that they’re in a relationship and Louis is partially pleased, but mostly feels guilty and traitorous. He wishes it were the truth. 

He gives Harry’s and a squeeze, before impulsively leaning back in to plant a small kiss of the corner of his mouth. 

Harry’s eyes expand to the size of golf balls, but he smiles and lets out a breath of agreement. 

 

When he gets back from picking the girls up (minus Lottie who’s at a mate’s house), there’s something different about the way Harry looks at Louis. There’s a glint in his eye that he doesn’t quite recognize, a piece of Harry that he hasn’t touched, hasn’t been acquainted with. He has to stop himself from physically reaching out and touching the expanse of his skin to feel the difference. He doesn’t know what’s changed, but something has definitely shifted. 

It’s in the way he stands next to Louis, same physical distance away, yet somehow closer than before. He can feel Harry even when he’s not touching him. He’s a present feeling. 

It’s different with his mum too. He can’t put it into words, but it’s there, hanging in the air waiting to be molded and delivered into tangible sentences at any moment, but no one makes a move to wield the words. Instead they hang there, filling the room like a sunrise streaming through a window. 

 

Thursday, the night before they leave, Jay prepares a nice meal. She cooks Louis’ favorite childhood meal: chicken stir-fry with sweet potato fries and baked rolls. She also breaks out a bottle of wine and sparkling grape juice for the youngest of the girls. 

Eventually the girls are sent off to finish their homework and somehow Louis and Harry are left to finish off the bottle of wine at the empty dinner table. They both end up a bit tipsy, giggling into each other’s shoulders later as they stumble exaggeratedly up the stairs and into their room. 

They packed up earlier that day and the room is clean (thanks to Harry) except for the bed, which has remained untouched, and in a state of disarray. It doesn’t really make much of a difference as they both tumble through the dimly lit room, not bothering to turn on anything other than the bedside lamp before they collapse on the bed. 

They both turn towards each other until they’re lying knee-to-knee, forehead-to-forehead. 

“This is kind of strange isn’t it,” Harry comments. 

“What?” Louis asks. 

“Just like, this,” Harry bumps his forehead gently against Louis’. “Like all of this.”

Louis is quiet. Yeah, it’s more than kind of strange. He’s curled up with his best mate on the bed of his childhood and his family thinks they’re in a relationship. It’s strange, but Louis doesn’t mind at all. He thinks, I would rather be strange than anything else if it means I get to lie here next to you. He thinks, there is nothing strange about how our knees knock together and our skin kisses. He thinks, I shouldn’t have drunk so much wine.

“Yeah, it is,” Louis agrees.

“But, like, it’s okay too,” Harry says after a moment. Louis is staring into Harry’s eyes, but they’re clouded over and although they’re looking at each other, he can tell Harry isn’t really seeing him. His mind is somewhere else. 

“Hmmm?” He asks.

“We’ve done a good job.”

A crease forms between Louis’ eyebrows, and he giggles lightly when the skin scrunches up against Harry’s. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Harry says, voice rich and deep like molasses, “If I were someone else, then I would think we’re dating.”

Louis pulls back, surprised by the topic. 

“Really?” He can’t help the hopefulness that leaks into his voice, nor can he help the pride that wells up inside of him at Harry’s words. His mind is a mold of mush and emotion and he tries not to read into Harry’s words. What is the message? Where is the take away? He doesn’t understand why Harry would say that.

“Yeah,” Harry affirms. 

The light of the lamp casts a shadow across Harry’s face and Louis can’t stop himself from reaching out and tracing the edge of it across his cheek and over the bridge of his nose. 

Harry’s eyes flutter closed. 

“If we’re dating then I should probably know what this cheek feels like,” Louis slurs nonsensically as he brings his fingers down on Harry’s skin. It’s soft like peaches and cream. 

His words come solely from his heart, the letters climbing up his throat and rolling off his tongue. His words are disconnected from his brain and his fingers move on instinct alone. His breaths come out long and even. 

Harry hums in agreement and leans into his touch. Louis brings his hand to Harry’s other cheek and traces a new pattern and murmurs, “And this one too.” His fingers continue to dust across the expanse of Harry’s face, until they land back on his nose. He gives it a small squeeze and giggles when Harry opens his eyes to glare blearily at him. “I should know this as well.” 

Harry goes cross-eyed as he tries to locate Louis’ hand on his nose and Louis’ gaze flickers down too, but further. He can’t help the small sigh that escapes him when his eyes land on Harry’s lips. They’re beautiful, he thinks, rose couloured cupid lips. 

I should know those too, Louis thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Instead, he trails his fingers down until they’re resting gently against his bottom lip. He doesn’t say anything and Harry meets he eyes when Louis glances back up. Harry opens his mouth and Louis’ fingers drop to his chin. 

“If we’re dating, then you should know these too,” he whispers. 

Louis murmurs something back and doesn’t stop himself when his head inevitably sinks forward. 

Then they’re kissing. 

Their bodies melt into each other until there is no physical space between them. It’s less kissing and more breathing into each other’s mouth and licking leisurely with wine-soaked tongues. They’re both falling asleep and Harry’s mouth feels familiar like a bedtime story he hasn’t heard in years. He exhales a soft sigh and doesn’t stop Harry when he gently pulls Louis’ head down so it’s resting on his chest. 

Louis listens to the steady drumming of Harry’s heartbeat and rides the waves of his expanding chest. He hardly notices when his breathing syncs up with Harry’s and suddenly they’re no longer two separate waves crashing into each other, but a greater pool of closed eyes and wet smiles. 

They fall asleep

 

When it’s time to say goodbye to his family, Louis admittedly sheds more than a few tears. He has to nearly rip Daisy and Phoebe from where they’ve secured themselves to his waist. 

“Daise, Phoebes, you’ll see me again,” Louis is grinning despite his misty eyes and heavy heart. It’s time for him to leave and return back to his life in the city. 

“You said that last time,” Phoebe whines clinging tighter. 

The comment doesn’t even make Louis upset. The guilt is gone, and instead an inexplicable emotion squeezes his bones. It won’t be like last time, he thinks. He’s different now, lighter, better, happier. Louis glances up and makes eye contact with Harry who is caught between a Lottie and Fizzy sandwich. 

Harry beams at him and mouths an ‘SOS’ at him. Louis gestures to the two girls attached to him and shoots him a helpless shrug. 

Eventually when all hugs have been dished and all tears shed, Louis walks up to his mum for one final goodbye. 

She’s got this look in her eyes that Louis can’t identify.

“My Boo-bear,” She says with a watery smile. She plants a final kiss on his cheek. “Make sure to call when you get back safely,” She reminds. 

Louis rolls his eyes good-naturedly. 

“You already told me five times and I already said I would.” 

She just waves him off.

“I know, I know. It’s my job to worry.” 

Louis smiles and turns to get in the car, but she grabs his arm gently. 

“Also, I just wanted you to know,” She bites her lip and looks a cross between guilty and apologetic, “That no matter what you do I’ll be proud of you.” Then quieter, “And no matter who you’re with,” her eyes flicker to Harry, “I’ll still love and support you, okay?” 

Louis gives her a bizarre smile. 

“Yeah, sure Mum. I love you.”

She smiles back in a way that only mothers can. 

“Love you too. Have a safe drive!”

 

Harry and Louis don’t talk about much on the ride back to London. They don’t talk about how their hands are clasped tightly together over the centre console. They don’t mention the equally wide smiles they’ve got plastered to their faces or the fact that just after twenty minutes into the drive they pulled over to buy a bag of grapes and then promptly made out. There is no discussion of what has happened or what is currently happening and certainly not about what is going to occur. 

Instead, Louis’ got his eyes on the road, his heart and mind on the boy beside him and his lungs expanding steadily, taking life one breath at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. Leave comments and tell me what you thought! Good, bad (hopefully not), I want to hear it all. 
> 
> Also, come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://terminaltongues.tumblr.com/)


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